


It Was Always Going To End Up This Way

by GazDibMama



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Big Brother Dean, Brother Feels, Daddy Dean, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:52:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5825698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GazDibMama/pseuds/GazDibMama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam leaves for Stanford. It takes him seven years to make it home. What will he find when he gets there?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Singer Salvage Yard, September 2008

**Author's Note:**

> This is AU-Canon divergent. After leaving for Stanford, Sam cuts himself off completely from his family and the hunting life. John dies during the battle with Azazel a little over nine months after Sam leaves for Stanford. Dean's attempts to tell Sam are shot down.  
>  Seven years later, Sam's wife Jess, is brutally murdered by a man who claims not to remember doing it. Torn up with grief, Sam makes his way to the only family he has left...Dean. What will he find and how will his brother react?

It was early afternoon when Sam pulled his '65 Mustang into Bobby's lot. While it wasn't the Impala, he'd get less shit from Dean about driving this than the Honda he'd driven the first three years he'd been at Stanford. 

Turning the ignition off, he ignored the twist of grief that rose within him at the thought of Palo Alto. His beautiful, sweet wife was gone. Decimated at the hands of a man who claims not to remember. 

The investigators and DA handling his wife's case assured him that the man did remember and was just trying to play the crazy card. He wasn't so sure of that. Not that the man was crazy, just that he might not remember. You tend not to when possessed by a demon, or have a shifter taking over your image. For the first time in years his mind had gone staright to something supernatural being responsible for his pain.

So here he was, at the closest thing the Winchester's had to a home. He didn't see the Impala or his Dad's truck in the lot, but he would bet his law degree that Bobby knew where they were. 

He was coming home to the family business because something decided his wife had to die. He wanted to find out what and why, and then he wanted payback.

As he got out of his car, he was shocked to see a small girl, maybe four or so, run out onto the front porch. "It's not Daddy!" She called back inside to someone, he assumed Bobby.

Next thing he knew he was looking down the barrel of a shotgun that was lowered just as fast as it had been aimed. Standing there holding it was a woman he didn't know. She was almost as tall as Dean, and around the same age he guessed. She had a lithe, long-limbed build with perky tits that the tank top she wore didn't even really try to hide. She had a mane full of medium auburn curls going down to the middle of her back. He could see the sun sparking the copper and gold highlights that summer had given her hair. She had a pretty face with a wide, generous mouth. The eyes were strange though. One was hazel and one was blue. And they looked like they could see right through to the heart of a person.

She looked down at the small girl with a wry smile. "You couldn't have just said that it was Sam?" The woman's alto voice had a midwestern drawl.

The little girl who looked an awful lot like the woman, but with green eyes, gave both of them an impish grin that reminded him of someone, he just couldn't place it at the moment. "No, it was more fun this way." Then sped off inside. "I'ma go wake Jack up and tell him Uncle Sam is here." Uncle Sam? What the fuck?

The woman nodded, never taking her eyes off of him. "That's fine. Then you two miscreants can have a snack. Your Daddy and Grandpa Bobby won't be back until later, so we'll wait on them for dinner. 

He felt like he was being weighed and measured. And didn't like it one iota. "Who are you? Where's Bobby?"

"Bobby's on a hunt with Dean. I'm Grace. The small domestic terrorist that just ran inside is Mary Margaret, mostly known as Maggie."

"That still doesn't tell me who you are and why you're at Bobby's place when he isn't?" He pulled himself up to his full height. This chick was freaking him out a little and he wasn't above intimidation to get the information he was looking for.

She laughed while tapping a fingernail on the barrel of the shotgun still in her hands. "I think for someone who abandoned his family seven years ago, you don't have a lot of room to demand shit. But since my phone is about three seconds from ringing, I'll throw you a bone. I'm your sister-in-law."

Before he could open his mouth to do anything other than gape, a cel went off. She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and flipped it open. "Hey babe." He could hear Dean's gravel rough voice but couldn't make out the words. 

As Grace walked away from him to give herself some privacy, his mind was racing. Dean had a wife? He had kids? What in the everloving fuck had led to that? His brother had been a love 'em and leave 'em sort of guy. 

He was so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice his sister-in-law, and how weird was that, standing in front of him, arm outstretched. He had no idea what she wanted.

Rolling her eyes, she snorted and waved the cel phone in front of his face. "Get with the program Sam. He wants to talk to you." Putting the phone in his hand and walking off into the house.

Watching her go, he put the phone to his ear, stomach churning with anticipation, guilt, and something he refused to name. Ever. Especially now. "Hey."

"Wow. After seven years all I get is hey? What do you want Sam?" Dean's voice wasn't exactly the same as it had been seven years ago. It had a bit more gravel to it and was a bit deeper than he remembered. He was having a hard time finding his voice. "Whatever. Look, me and Bobby have had to detour to help someone with a hunt. We'll be back tomorrow. Are you still gonna be there or are you gonna run off before we get back?" He supposed he had earned the sarcastic tone coming from his brother.

"I'll be here. I'll find a room in town." He could taste the guilt. And it tasted fucking awful.

Dean snorted. "Fuck that noise Sam, the midgets can sleep with Gracie tonight, you sleep in the spare room upstairs." He heard the first tinges of warmth from his brother, and it felt like a weight was lifting off of his chest. He could hear another voice rumbling. "Look Sam, we're here, so I gotta go. You'll be fine with Gracie and the kiddos. We'll talk tomorrow." Dean hung up before he could even reply.

Shaking his head, he closed the phone and looked towards the house. Looked like his sister-in-law was going to make him come to her. Sighing, he squared his shoulders and headed for the house.


	2. Chapter Two: Singer Salvage Yard; September 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam learns some things. And has feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, no betas here. All mistakes within are mine alone.
> 
> Wow, I know it's been like forever and then some, but well, life and other fics took over. Plus a big stretch of seriously fucked up writer's block didn't help. I promise not to let another year and a half go by before chapter three is up.

When he entered the house, he was floored at how little it had changed. Oh, it was certainly cleaner, but essentially the same. For some reason that made him feel a little better, a little less like his world had crumbled.

He followed the sound of voices to the kitchen where the little girl had now been joined by the previously mentioned Jack. Or so he assumed. And damn if the boy wasn't Dean's mini-me. The two were sitting at the kitchen table eating apples with peanut butter while their mother was putting things back into the fridge.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Umm...here's your phone." Holding it out to her. "Dean said..."

She smiled and he felt himself relax a little. "I know what Dean said." Then looked at the kids. "Maggie, Jack." The two looked over to her. "Your Uncle Sam is gonna sleep in your room. You two heathens get to sleep in the big bed with me."

"Okay." The little girl answering for them both. Jack seemed to be busy shoveling apple into his mouth, but was nodding along with his sister.

Grace looked back to him. "Want a beer?" Her voice was laced with a warmth that had been lacking before.

He nodded gratefully. He accepted the beer and leaned up against the counter. He had so many questions and no idea where to start. As he took a couple of pulls, he started prioritizing the list. And the most glaring one was the one he was least looking forward to.

"Why is Dean with Bobby? Where's Dad?" 

The room went totally silent other than the hum of the refrigerator. He looked up from his beer to see that both kids had stopped eating and were staring at their mother, trepidation painting both of their faces. The little girl looked at Grace, then over to her brother. "C'mon Jack. Let's go outside."

Looked like the little guy didn't need to be told twice. He simply grabbed a few apple slices and slid down from the chair, making a beeline for the front door.

"You two know your limits." Then whistled and Sam could hear the pounding of paws coming down the steps. He turned in time to see a boxer run out the front door. "Take Ollie with you!"

She turned back to him. There was a foreboding look in those odd eyes that chilled him to the core. "Dead."

He blinked. "Dean would have called..."

"He did call, you fucking moron! Half a dozen times. I believe the last time he called you told him to forget you existed?!" She turned her back to him and gripped the counter like it was the only thing keeping her from slapping him, as if the tone of her voice hadn’t been as jarring as a slap to the face.

He thought back to the spate of phone calls that Dean had made about nine months after he had announced he was leaving for Stanford and Dad had disowned him while Dean had stood silently by. He was still so angry with Dean at the time. "He was drunk. I thought he was just drunk..."

Her back was still turned and her knuckles were a stark white. "Not drunk. Half alive and high as hell on painkillers, yeah. But not drunk."

His legs started to feel weak. He grabbed the back of the chair that Dean's son had been occupying to steady himself before he sank down on it. "What..." His voice was suddenly hoarse. He swallowed. "What happened?"

Turning to face him, her voice was neutral, but it was a forced neutral. "Azazel."

Like that fucking explained anything, but she was looking at him like he should have a clue, so he started scanning his memory banks. After what seemed like an eternity, but was only a minute or so, he landed on it.

"One of the angels cast out with Lucifer. He's reputed to have taught men how to fashion swords and shields. Was one of the cherubim." He looked over at her less than impressed expression.

"And you get an A as usual, from what I've been told." The scathing tone of her voice setting his spine on edge. "He's also known as the demon who killed your mother."

He sat back as if she had finally physically slapped him. His father was killed by the same damn demon that killed his mother? “What?!” Seemed like the appropriate response. “How?”

She sighed and leaned back onto the counter and took a drink of her own beer. “Your Dad was killed by Azazel, who also killed your mother.” She sighed again. “A lot of people died the night your Dad did, taking that yellow-eyed bastard out.” She shook her head like she was trying to not scream at him. “Like my dad and brother. Or almost died, like Dean and Pastor Jim.” She sighed again.

He sat there staring at her, trying to process what she had just said. From what he gathered she was from a hunting family also, and that there had been what seemed to have been a rather large battle with the demon that killed his parents. He looked at her. “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”

She looked at him, the odd eyes piercing his heart as she shook her head ruefully. “We don’t have that kind of time, because the beginning starts with ‘Let there be light’ and ends with you sitting right there.” She finally moved from the counter and sat down at the table with him. 

“Look, I know how John got into hunting after your Mother was killed, but there are some families that have been doing this for generations upon generations. Like your Mom’s family for instance. The Campbell’s have been hunters for almost as long as the Davies have been.” She smiled a little. “That’d be my family.”

He was still processing the fact that she said his mother’s family were hunters, and apparently had been for generations. Dad never mentioned that to him and Dean. Ever. If Mom had been raised a hunter, then how? Why hadn’t there been salt lines? Or sigils of any kind?

His incredulousness must have shown because she gave him a sympathetic look. “I know. You had no idea.” She shook her head. “Neither did your brother until my Dad mentioned that the Campbell’s would not be involved in this fight at all. It was pretty obvious by your Dad’s reaction that he found out about them somewhere along the line.” She was still shaking her head. “Your dad was such a jackass.” There was no affection in her voice. It was obvious that she had not liked John in the least.

He looked at her with mild shock. Dean usually lost his mind when someone spoke ill of John Winchester. Marrying someone who held the opinion his sister-in-law just voiced? He honestly hadn’t thought that could happen. But he could see that it wasn’t an opinion she had kept to herself. It sounded like something that had been uttered often.

“Most people don’t get away with talking about Dad like that to Dean.” He figured he’d see if she’d cop to the fact that she more than likely was pissing her husband off every time she did.

“Most people aren’t me.” She smiled at him, rather smug. “Plus, after everything your brother learned right before and right after John’s death?” The smile was gone. “Let’s just say John is no longer the icon he once was.” She went to the fridge and grabbed another beer. “Dean will tolerate a whole hell of a lot from those he loves.” She gave him another soul scathing look. “More than he ever should.” She popped open the beer and took a long drink, then shook her head. “It’s not my place to fight his fights for him, no matter how much I’d love to sometimes. You want to know what happened between your brother and your father, you have to ask him.” She sat her beer down. “Good luck with that.” Implying that he’d be better off ramming his head into a wall. She probably wasn’t wrong.

He nodded and sat that subject aside. He had a feeling his sister-in-law was as stubborn as his brother. “Okay, I get it, you don’t want to talk about Dad.” He glanced at her ring finger. “How long have you and Dean been married?” Thinking she may be more likely to talk about her husband.

“Five years.” She grinned. “Got married down at Ellen’s when Mags was about six months old.” The grin widened some and Sam felt himself smiling back. “I was already a few months along with Jack, so we figured we should make it legal.”

Sam laughed. “Please tell me that isn’t how my brother proposed.” Even though he could see Dean being that practical about marriage. Dean wasn’t a romantic; his brother had gotten women simply with his looks and smile. And Dean’s warped version of charm.

Laughing she shook her head. “Nah.” She grabbed the empty bottles and tossed then in the trash and rejoined him at the table. “Although I’m sure you wouldn’t find it the most romantic of proposals, it did the trick.”

He just smiled a bit and sat back, waiting to hear her answer. “I can see that.” He was a bit bothered by the fact that she seemed to always have an idea of what he was thinking. 

She shrugged with a smile. “It was December, we’d just found out about Jack, or as Dean was calling him at the time, Thing Two.” They both smiled at that. “I was dealing with morning sickness, which is a total fucking misnomer, because, here I am, puking at midnight; Mags has her very first cold, so she’s up, coughing, sneezing and cranky…” 

Grace’s smile is nearly blinding as she goes on. “And there’s Dean. Maggie in his arms, trying to soothe her; sitting on the bathroom floor where I’m hugging the toilet, trying to soothe me, and as the three of us are kind of huddled there on the floor, waiting for the next round, he kissed me on the temple, then asked me if I thought Valentine’s Day would be too cheesy for a wedding.” 

Sam laughed. She was right, it wasn’t the most romantic of proposals, but it was pure Dean. “He didn’t do too bad.” 

He thought back to asking Jess to marry him. He’d taken her to Tahoe for the weekend, planned a romantic hike with a picnic lunch and then had asked her as the two of them had laid together on the blanket looking at the beautiful lake and all the environs. He had been so nervous, not sure at all that she’d say yes, unlike Dean, who had just asked about when they were going to do it.

His hand gripped his beer bottle a little tighter. He missed Jess so much. Her kindness, her smile, the way she laughed. He missed kissing her right after she’d eaten a piece of chocolate, just that tiniest bit sweeter than it usually was.

Forcing those thoughts to the back of his mind, he looked over at his sister-in-law, who was now frowning some. “Sam, you alright?”

He tried to nod, but just couldn’t. “I don’t know.” He stood up. “I should go, I don’t know why I came here.” He started pacing the kitchen. “It was selfish of me to think that everything else had stayed the same, that only I had changed. It’s just that she’s gone and I…” He turned to find himself enveloped in long arms.

“Hey, Sam.” Grace squeezed him tightly. “No, you need to be here.” He wasn’t sure why, but she was leading him towards the living room and the couch. She pushed him to sit and then sat down next to him, taking his hand. “It kind of got lost in all of the surprises for you, but I’m very sorry for your loss.” 

He tried to pull his hand away, she was pulling him close to an edge he was trying to avoid going over. “I’ll find out what did it and they’ll pay.”

But Grace wouldn’t let go of his hand. “No, Sam.”

This time he yanked and she let go. He stood and turned to her. “What do you mean?” He didn’t like the tone she had used. His hope was that her response would be that they would find it, that he wouldn’t be alone. But her tone was telling him something different.

“Jess was killed by a human. Not a monster.” Grace looked out the window at her children, Dean’s children, outside, running around, laughter filling the air outside.

He shook his head. “No, it’s a monster. That guy doesn’t remember doing it.” The logic portion of his brain was laughing at him. It had always known better.

“Bobby and Dean considered it. Looked into it.” Grace’s voice wasn’t steady. “From every possible angle, even the angels and demons one.” Her voice was plaintive and somehow made him feel better. The knowledge that even after all his silence, Dean still had his back. “And they just couldn’t find anything.” Then those eyes pinned him to the couch. “And even though we would all like to have his head on a pike, we can’t. He’s human and that’s not what we do.”

“You’re sure?” He sat back down. “Because…” He had no reasons. He had come to Bobby’s because he needed Bobby’s library. In his years in California, he had let all the hunting stuff go, other than the wards he had at the house. There were no books of lore, and other than a couple of knives and a single handgun, no weapons. He had wanted it to be a monster because that was easier than facing the fact that his wife was gone. 

“…you want it to be?” Grace’s voice was soft and understanding.

He just nodded. The emotional dam he had built up was starting to break. If he spoke, there would be no stopping it. 

Arms wrapped around him again, and he just lost the battle. His shoulders started to shake and the tears he had been blinking back, fell. He found himself reciprocating the hug his sister-in-law was giving him, and let himself go. 

As he sobbed, Grace whispered the same things that Dean would have into his hair. Rubbing his back with her hands as he sobbed out the loss and the anger and the overwhelming sadness. 

Continuing to sob, he missed the door opening and the two small bodies coming in. Suddenly, he felt two sets of small arms go around him. Maggie from the back, and Jack from the side. That just made him cry harder, he and Jess never got to this. They had decided to wait on kids. They thought they had time. He cried even harder.

Then Maggie nearly crooned into his ear. “It’s okay, Unca Sam. Daddy will be home soon and he’ll make everything better.” The small arms hugged him tighter. “Daddy can make anything better.” The absolute faith in his niece’s voice brought a half-smile to his face.

“Yeah, he’s pretty good at that, isn’t he?” Feeling both kids nod.

Grace squeezed him again. “The best.” She kissed him on the head and extracted herself from the Winchester pile. Jack crawling into his lap to be held or to hold him. He wasn’t sure, but it felt good. This round of tears was drying on his face. He knew there would be more eventually, but for this moment, he was cried out.

Grace smiled down at the three of them. “Since Daddy and Grandpa Bobby won’t be back until tomorrow, why don’t we take Uncle Sam to get some Chinese, how does that sound?” And before the kids could chime in, Grace laughed. “I know what you two monsters are gonna say, I was asking your Uncle Sam.”

“Say yes Unca Sam, please?” Maggie’s voice whispered in his ear, while Jack gave him puppy-dog eyes from his lap. Damn, now he knew why Dean had complained so much about his when they were younger; they really are impossible to resist; even if he was already going to say yes. He was hungry and he liked Chinese.

“Sounds good to me.” Feeling his heart lift just a little as both kids cheered and hugged him. He would have to rethink his previous statement; he was right in coming here. Even if he didn’t find the answers he wanted, he may have found something he needed more than he realized, his family.

Grace just smirked at him. “You know that by saying yes, the two of them now think they own you.” 

He looked at both Maggie and Jack. He could see Dean in Maggie’s eyes; wide and brilliant green, full of mischief and love. And Jack was just Dean in miniature form, down to the slightly bowed legs and ears he would eventually grow into. Suddenly, he was hit with a rush of fierce love for these two children, Dean’s children, his blood. The cracks in his soul that he hadn’t even been aware of started to mend.

Looking up at his sister-in-law, he gave her the first honest smile since the moment he had been told his wife was dead. “I think I’m good with that.”

Grace smiled back. “I think you’re getting there.” She looked at the kids. “Go change into clean shirts, and then we can go.” 

He withheld a grunt as Jack’s elbow nailed him in the diaphragm as the boy rushed off his lap. But Maggie had noticed, giving him a small hug as she climbed down. “Sorry, Unca Sam. Jack just loves Chinese food.” Then ran out of the room.

He stood up. “I think I’ll go grab my bag and change too. I’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

Grace nodded. “Sounds good, Sam.” Before he could turn to go out to his car, her voice stopped him. “Sam. Even though it’s not the best circumstance, we’re glad you’re home.” And he just knew that she hadn’t meant Bobby’s. That she had meant Dean, her and the kids.

Home. Yeah, he was home. He turned to her and nodded. “Thank you.” Trying to put everything he was feeling into those two words. How even though his pain was still so present and right in his face, there was now a light in that darkness and he was grateful for it.

Grace, once again seeming to read him like a book, just shook her head. “That’s what family does idjit.” She grinned. “Go get ready or two domestic terrorists will just drag your giant ass to the car.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He hustled out to his car. He could see why Dean fell for this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you're enjoying it. Please, please feel free to leave any comments, concerns, or constructive criticisms! I love feedback.
> 
> Thanks to those that have left kudos and comments, they are much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, not beta'd. All mistakes are mine. Feedback would be lovely.


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